


Midi-Chlorians Gotta Have It

by gloss



Category: Star Wars: Dark Disciple - Christie Golden, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Begging, Body Horror, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Femdom, Gangbang, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, facesitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: While meeting to discuss the Dooku plan, Obi-Wan, along with Vos and Ventress, is exposed to some seriously trippy flora and fauna. The only solution is sex. Lots of it.Plus, if you're Obi-Wan, equal, heaping helpings of denial and shame.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Asajj Ventress/Quinlan Vos
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Midi-Chlorians Gotta Have It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamonjonnies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonjonnies/gifts).



> This happens ~sometime~ in the Dark Disciple timeline, after Vos and Ventress become lovers but before their first attempt on Dooku.
> 
> But it's also not necessary to have read that book. The relevant info is in the fic.

Disguised as sector bureaucrats, Obi-Wan and Cody arrived on the moon Kukkivat-1 with just three clone troopers. The clones wore a variety of beards and prosthetic headtails to distinguish them, although Cody remained doubtful about just how believable these costumes were. 

"Nonsense," Obi-Wan assured him with a squeeze on his shoulder. "Nothing to worry about. After all, I designed the disguises myself."

"That is true, sir," Cody replied. He said no more. The general's confidence was, far often than not, well-placed.

From the space port, they made their way to a sprawling inn complex on the outskirts of the small city. A cabin was booked in the name of Ben Harkeen, Esquire, and subordinates. Having dropped their luggage and packed their necessary gear, Cody and the others set off for the southern tip of the peninsula. In the scrubland there, they were to scout locations for a training base and, possibly, resupply warehousing.

Obi-Wan had a few hours to himself before the other commitment that brought him here. He donned a wide-brimmed, floppy hat woven from local grasses and set out into the overgrown meadow abutting the inn. 

The day was very warm, and rather more humid than he preferred. However, he was alone, and the native flora and fauna here were fascinating. The remarkable ryuji-wing, a symbiont of three different photosynthetic fungi and winged insect, laid its pupae here and nowhere else. Its imagos fed on the nectar of the wine-wort, a flower quite remarkable all on its own. The nectar was said to be faintly hallucinogenic for humanoids, though the evidence for that was fairly anecdotal in Obi-Wan's opinion. The structure of the wine-wort's pollen storage and dispersal, however, was indisputably remarkable and deservedly infamous.

Though scrupulous to check his wrist comm frequently, Obi-Wan still managed to lose himself in the meadow. The Force was nearly palpable here, undisturbed by terror and cruelty, simply radiant with potential. The polyphonic buzz and hum of insects rose and dipped through the quieter whisper of breeze through the leaves and grasses. He collected a phenomenal specimen of a dehisced wine-wort seedpod as well as juvenile ryuji-wing that had died, stuck fast in the wine-wort's complex of pollen sacs. 

Two centuries ago, he might have lived every day of his life just like this, communing with the Force. Drifting with it as it flowed and sparkled and wound its way through woody stalks and delicately reflexed petals, across prismatic wings the size of his thumb and alongside tiny fungal spores caught on the wind. 

He had not been alone like this, let alone focused on something beautiful, something vital and natural, for so very long. This war often seemed to betoken the end of everything he held dear. When he found his thoughts straying toward such gloominess, however, he took himself in hand and made sure to adjust both his sleep schedule and nutrient intake. Such bathos and melodrama may have suited Anakin, but Obi-Wan liked to consider himself better composed. All the same, he was happy here, down on one knee, sweat broken out all over his body, squinting at the intricate path taken by one three-horned beetle around a wine-worth stalk. He was content as he had not been in a very long time.

He left the meadow reluctantly, but also promptly. Coated in sweat, dazzled by the light, and prickling from various bites, he picked his way back through the tall grasses and swarms of red midges. At the inn, he stored his specimens before he washed up. This moon offered copious amounts of fresh running water and he luxuriated (briefly) in the feel of it over his skin.

A knock at the door came just as he was midway through dressing. It was, strangely enough, Cody's knock. Obi-Wan called him to enter as he tugged on a fresh shirt.

"Back so soon?"

"Trouble broke his ankle," Cody explained. "I sent the others on ahead."

"Ah, poor soul."

"Yes, sir." Cody hesitated on the threshold.

Obi-Wan finished doing up his boots. "Is there anything else?"

"Quite the bite there on your side, sir," Cody said. "If you don't mind me saying so."

Obi-Wan twisted around, this way and that, lifting his loose shirt. "You may always speak freely, Cody."

"Here," Cody said, sinking to one knee at Obi-Wan's side. He touched the skin on Obi-Wan's hip, then looked up. "You also seem to have gotten something of a burn, sir."

"But I wore a hat!"

"Even so. Should I fetch some patches or...?"

Obi-Wan twisted again, trying to see the bite that so concerned Cody. Small and angry-red, it did not seem all that serious; he'd certainly experienced far worse. This one barely even itched. At times, bless him, Cody could be a tad overprotective.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Obi-Wan told him. "I'm about to be late for my appointment as it is."

"Of course." Cody preceded him out of the room. "Best of luck with your date."

"It's not a date," Obi-Wan said crossly.

Cody's smile vanished before Obi-Wan could be sure it had even arrived. "Merely drinks and a meal with two of your favorite people in the galaxy."

"That will be enough, Commander."

Cody nodded. "As you say, sir."

The tavern was a broad, curved patio under a woven roof. Obi-Wan selected a table near the back with several routes of escape should such a thing be necessary. He trusted Vos, so far as someone as irreverent as Vos could be trusted, but he did not trust Ventress. He respected her; he always had, however grudgingly. Since her split with Dooku, his respect for her had grown apace. 

But he did not trust her. He never would. 

This meeting had been hastily arranged. Neither he nor Vos were able to make it back to Coruscant for their usual check-in at a time convenient for the other, but now that Ventress had discovered Vos's identity, the mission itself needed to be evaluated anew. 

At least he could do so with a frosty drink in hand and a sunburn across his nose. While he waited, he idly scratched his arm, then his side, and sipped.

Ventress and Vos arrived arm in arm. Their cover as a couple was quite convincing, down to body language and micro-expressions. Vos paused a passing droid and purchased two flowers, one of which he pinned to Ventress's lapel. She rolled her eyes, but did not remove the flower.

"And for you, old friend." Vos flourished the second flower toward at Obi-Wan.

"Gracious, you shouldn't have." Obi-Wan tucked it behind his ear and rose to offer Ventress his hand. "Greetings."

"You two get cozy! I'll rustle up some food!" Vos strode away. No doubt he'd be best friends with the cooks within a few moments.

Ventress ignored Obi-Wan's hand and took her seat. He poured her some hydra-fizz, which she topped up from a flask strapped to her thigh.

“I suppose I have you to thank for this,” Obi-Wan said after a few moments.

Ventress arched a brow. “For what, precisely?”

“Arriving on time,” Obi-Wan replied. “Vos is a man of many surprises, but the one reliable thing about him is that he is always late. Criminally late, I'd say.”

She chuckled at that and lifted her drink in a toast. “To Vos, then. May he ever keep us on our toes.”

“Hmm. Not quite what I meant, but —"

“Look at you two!” Vos embraced them from behind, sticking his head between theirs as he slung his arms around their necks. “Chatting away like old friends!”

They stiffened simultaneously.

“Hardly,” Ventress said.

Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Not even remotely true.”

Laughing hard, Vos pulled them in close. When the server droid creaked toward them, he asked it for a double of whatever the lady was drinking.

It looked expectantly at Ventress, awaiting a name for her drink.

“It's no good for you. You don’t want this,” Ventress told Vos. Her protectiveness vanished just as rapidly as it had appeared. Obi-Wan’s interest was piqued.

"Fine, I'll have his." Vos shrugged and Obi-Wan instructed the droid to prepare another two fruity Coruscant Slushes.

After the first course, Obi-Wan patted the sweet oil from his lips and pushed away his plate. He couldn't eat another dumpling if Master Yoda himself had ordered it.

"Well," he said. His guests continued to eat and chuckle over the story they'd just told him, something about a drunk pirate queen and the bounty that had all but fallen into Ventress's lap. "I say..."

"All business, this one," Vos mock-whispered to Ventress. "No wonder you two get along."

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan asked, startled.

"We do not," she said, abruptly sobering up. "But it is past time we discussed what has brought us here."

"You go ahead, I'm just the liaison." Vos popped another dumpling into his mouth and sat back. He had an arm across the back of Ventress's chair and his legs loosely crossed. The man could make himself at home anywhere. Obi-Wan found it charming every bit as much he found it annoying.

Quietly, Ventress sketched in their plan, as it stood, to assassinate Dooku. There were still some key features to be worked out, not least _where_ this would happen, but overall the scheme was solid. It was also far more subtle than Obi-Wan had expected.

He said as much. This earned him a sneer from Ventress and a loud guffaw, complete with applause, from Vos.

Obi-Wan's goal at this meeting was two-fold: evaluate the assassination, of course, but also get a sense of what effect Ventress was having on Vos. This task was the more difficult of the two. To all appearances, Vos was as cheery and precipitous as he'd always been. If anything, Ventress seemed to be the one affected by their partnership. Though she remained aloof, frequently sarcastic, there was an _ease_ to her that Obi-Wan had never before observed.

On second thought, that may well have been because in nearly all of their previous meetings, they'd been trying to kill each other.

Obi-Wan scratched an insect bit on his neck, then his arm and his hip. Warmth suffused him. Perhaps those Coruscant Slushes were stronger than he was used to.

"Your partnership appears..." He pressed his lips together, suddenly unsure how to proceed. "Tell me about your partnership."

Ventress tossed back another swallow from her flask. "I don't answer to you."

"Ah," he said. "Well, I suppose that's true. Vos?"

Vos lifted one shoulder as he smiled. "Great. It's great. It's fantastic. _She's_ fantastic."

"Oh?"

"Vos," Ventress said, harshly enough that the single syllable became a warning.

"What?" Vos asked and looked back and forth between them. "Hey, you okay over there, Ken—"

"Hardeen," Obi-Wan said as he fanned himself, first with the collar of his shirt, then with the ridiculous flower Vos had given him. Heat blasted through him, suddenly and inescapably. He spoke with effort, as if through flames. "The name's Hardeen."

"Whoever. You okay?" Vos crouched at Obi-Wan's side and peered up at him. The tattoo that bisected his face glowed like a fresh koyo melon slice. He squeezed Obi-Wan's knee. His hand was broad and strong. Under its weight, the heat gathered and concentrated, allowing Obi-Wan's mind to clear "Hey. You in there?"

"Do that again," Obi-Wan said and spread his legs. 

"Excuse me?" Ventress put in.

"He's not himself," Vos told her.

"I'll say."

He'd said something wrong. It was difficult to recall just what, however. He was so _warm_.

"Sun-dazed, merely sun-dazed," Obi-Wan announced. "I should know my limits better."

Vos and Ventress exchanged a look.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "Perhaps I should return to my rooms." 

He tried to stand, but his balance veered and his breath caught in his throat. When he gripped the table, all the cups and plates rattled.

"We'll take you," Vos said, then had trouble rising himself. He knocked against Obi-Wan and the impact sent curtains of heat blowing through Obi-Wan's body.

"Pathetic." Ventress took them each by the elbow and steered them toward the cabins. She knew which belonged to Obi-Wan, which was something to worry about, he thought. Later. When he was rested and better hydrated. She piloted them with sure, steady hands, never pausing, never allowing them to fumble or wander. Her control of two unruly men was, frankly, marvelous. Obi-Wan tried to say so, but she ignored him. 

His voice sounded more like a groan than words, anyway.

Inside the cabin, she deposited Obi-Wan at the small desk, then sank onto the edge of the bed. Vos appeared to have gotten a second wind. He bounced around the room, humming loudly and fingering the decor as well as Obi-Wan's things.

“I say, Vos, would you _sit still_?”

Ventress sat bent over, head in her hands. “He’s right, Quinlan. You’re making me dizzy.”

She used his first name, Obi-Wan noted.

“Does anyone else feel...” Vos plucked at the collar of his jersey and flapped it to make a small breeze. “Warm?”

“Warm,” Obi-Wan echoed.

“Hot,” Ventress muttered. “There must be something wrong with the coolant systems.”

“I don’t think that’s to blame,” Obi-Wan said. He stood and checked the vents. Cool air poured through. He opened the windows as well, to let the evening breeze, laden with petals and the whirring noise of insects and bats, into the room.

"Hey, look!" Vos held up one of Obi-Wan's specimen bags. "I'm getting the _weirdest_ read from this —" 

He tried to jump, or toss the bag, or _something_. It was unclear. He jerked and whirled, like a doll tossed away, his body not quite his own. Obi-Wan caught him, messily, before he fell. 

“Really, Vos, you must be more —“

Vos slumped against him, arm snaking around his neck again, and tipped his forehead against Obi-Wan’s temple.

“He’s a mess,” Ventress said and attempted to pull Vos away.

“Hey, look at us!” Vos beamed, looking back and forth between them. His legs bent and kicked. “The party’s just getting started!”

“There is no party,” Obi-Wan said.

“I agree with Kenobi.”

“You do? Since when?”

“Yes, Ventress, do tell.”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. Her lips were terrifically full, Obi-Wan noticed. Her cropped hair looked very soft. 

Vos’s weight tipped against her now and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Mmm,” he murmured, “you always smell so _good_.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze met Ventress’s. She did not look away. In fact, she hugged Vos a little closer. “You’re very drunk,” she said to him.

“Not drunk,” Vos insisted. “This feels different.”

“Does it now?” Her tone with him was faintly indulgent, definitely amused. All the while, she steadily returned Obi-Wan's gaze.

“Well, well,” Obi-Wan said as suspicions slotted together and resolved into certainty. Perhaps she had not turned Vos, but Ventress certainly had taken him to her bed. Many times. Repeatedly.

Images of what that might have looked like overwhelmed him, an implacable swarm of them, nearly a blizzard. Filthy grappling positions, teeth and dark lips, the clamor of hoarse moans. Vos's ass flexing as he drove into her, her face transported to the heights of pleasure. Ventress riding him, fingernails clawing into his chest. 

Overcome, Obi-Wan stumbled to the bed.

"Sun dazed!" he shouted, though no one had said anything. It was, in fact, eerily silent.

His shirt felt as if had shrunk around him. He panted, tearing ineffectually at the fabric. Before him, Vos was wrapping himself around Ventress from behind, as if he had four, or six, or eight arms. His tongue snaked along her jaw, his leg pushed between hers. Ventress stared at Obi-Wan, a faint flush traveling up her throat to her face. She did not speak, but the command was clear: _Don't look away._

His prick was swelling, hot as anything, straining his trousers. Obi-Wan pressed the heel of his hand against it, but that, too, felt good. Too good, and his fingers curled and scrabbled for purchase, trying to wrap around the shaft.

He snatched his hand off himself. Something was terribly wrong.

"Vos," he said, but his voice sounded husky, unfamiliar. "Something is terribly —"

Ventress moaned just then, her head falling back, her lovely, long neck exposed. Vos worked his hand between her legs. Her moan was captivating, every bit as compelling as her stare. Obi-Wan's cock thrummed in response.

As they approached him, Obi-Wan tried to scramble away. He didn't get far. The bed was arranged against the wall. His heartbeat thundered in every pore of his body.

"Kenobi," Ventress said, and knelt over him, trapping him between her knees and arms. He wanted to offer his throat. "Stay still."

"Stop —" Obi-Wan's mouth was dry. He wriggled, but Ventress held him fast. He could not draw a full breath; his prick felt big and hard as an Uneti trunk. "Please."

"He wants it," Vos said. Despite everything, he sounded surprised, even a bit awed. 

"Of course he does," Ventress replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan locked his jaw and arched against the prison of his own garments. If only he could be free of them - but that was mad. If he were naked, he would be all the more vulnerable. "Leave me be, _please_."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Shall we, Quinlan?"

Vos grunted, his hands on her waist, her ass.

"I think he likes the attention," she continued. "I think he _needs_ it."

They could strip him. That would be out of his hands. They could touch his cock, put their mouths on him, and he'd stay innocent.

"Stop —"

"Kenobi —" Vos started, but Ventress shushed him as she slid off Obi-Wan and lay beside him. 

"You don't really want that, do you?" She stroked the back of her hand up his face, against the nap of his beard. Obi-Wan swallowed, poorly, a moan. "No, you don't."

She was a witch. She was a stunning, untrustworthy witch. He licked her palm, bit down, and watched her eyes widen, then narrow again.

Vos pushed his hands under Obi-Wan's shirt, scratching him lightly, making him toss to and fro. He didn't know if he was chasing the sensation or trying to escape it.

"Shame is a curse," Ventress said, her tone light and entirely conversational. "It warps the likes of you, bends and breaks you. And for what?"

"Vos!" Obi-Wan tried to catch the man's gaze. "Please. As a friend, as a _brother_ , I'm begging you —"

Ventress sat up and pulled Vos against her. They kissed again, deeply, his hand tugging at her fine, soft hair. 

"He's begging, Quinlan."

"He is."

"It's a lovely sound."

Vos reached for Obi-Wan's hand. "Give in. This isn't your fault. You're not doing anything wrong."

"Is that what she told you?" He tightened his grasp on Vos. "That isn't true. That can't be true."

Vos pulled himself close, breath whispering over Obi-Wan's mouth. The contact made them both moan. 

"Ben," he said, barely above a sigh. "It's all right."

Obi-Wan should have pulled away. He should have pushed Vos away. Instead, his arm came around Vos's neck to hold him still closer. Their mouths smashed together, the jolt of pain sharpening the pleasure already coursing through them. Vos threw a leg over Obi-Wan's and poured himself into the kiss. His free hand clutched at Obi-Wan's hair, opening and closing in time with his racing pulse.

Ventress leaned over to watch, head pillowed on her arm, as her other hand worked beneath her skirt. 

"Pretty," she remarked absently as she moved in closer, touching Obi-Wan's cheek, then the nape of Vos's neck. When she slapped Vos's flank, both men moaned. "But a tad exclusionary, no?"

When Obi-Wan started to reply, she shoved her first two fingers into his mouth. Thrust them deep, then pulled them out, only to twist them, add a third, and fuck his mouth roughly for several more strokes.

He tasted her slick on her fingers, then just her skin. Sour as Dathomir fog, delicious. He moaned around her hand.

"Quinlan," she said, without stopping what she was doing, "be a dear and get that magnificent cock of yours out."

Obi-Wan arched his back, chasing the lost weight as Vos sat up and undid his trousers with fumbling hands. He was, indeed, magnificent, fully erect, the skin on his shaft dark as Naboovian plums. Obi-Wan sucked her fingers up against his palate and reached, desperately, to touch Vos. Vos shoved into his hand with a broken groan. 

"Easy," Ventress said. She slid between them, straddling Obi-Wan's chest and pulling her hand free with a wet pop.

The bed dipped as Vos knelt behind her, between Obi-Wan's legs, and kissed her neck as his hands cupped her breasts. He undid her sarashi; the silk spilled over Obi-Wan's throat and face as Vos lifted her breasts free, his thumbs already on her nipples. 

"What do you want me to do?" Vos asked.

Obi-Wan's cock was trapped between them and he was sweating copiously. He watched as Ventress twisted at the waist to kiss Vos, fuck his mouth with her tongue as she'd done to Obi-Wan with her fingers. Her breasts, larger than Obi-Wan had ever expected, filled Vos's large palms. Obi-Wan touched the underside of one breast, then pinched it, exploring. She ground her crotch against him, then back against Vos.

"You want to fuck him, don't you?" she asked Vos, her voice nearly a purr. "I know what you want."

"Please —" Obi-Wan said. "I can't do this. I —"

Vos covered Obi-Wan's hand with his own and pressed it against Ventress's breast. Ventress laughed and the sound rippled into Obi-Wan's body, down the length of his cock and up through his torso.

"I do, I do want to fuck him," Vos told Ventress. He massaged Obi-Wan's thighs roughly with his strong hands. "I've wanted to for a long time."

"Do it, then," she said. She looked down at Obi-Wan. "He's very good. You're going to enjoy this."

"And you?" Vos asked.

"Oh, I'll find a use for him," she replied.

Obi-Wan was here, but not present. He was a twitching, needy, sweaty mass of urges and instincts, but he was not himself. He couldn't be himself. He would not enjoy this, not if he were himself. He would not spread his legs for Quinlan Vos, hook one around Vos's muscled waist, breathe out and then back in as Vos's slicked fingers breached him in preparation.

He would not return Ventress's kiss like this, sucking and hungry, teeth clacking, nor would he smile when she yanked on his hair and twisted her fingers in it.

"Harder," he said, "please. Harder."

They could take their pleasure on him. Perhaps it would slake this desperation webbing through him, perhaps it wouldn't. It was out of his hands. He was their toy. He neither wanted nor protested. 

"Such a smart mouth," she cooed, "always so ready with delusions and half-truths."

He moaned when Vos twisted his fingers inside, then again as Ventress threw her leg over his face and pulled his head up against her groin. She and Vos faced each other; he could hear their voices but not what they said. She was wet and hot atop him, the skin intricately wrinkled and folded and slick with desire. His tongue worked her open and she bucked, so he did it again, and again, even as Vos pushed his cock inside him, achingly big and slow. Obi-Wan's ankle beat against Vos's lower back, urging him on, while he reached blindly back to touch Ventress's ass and work the slick pooling there into the hole.

He wanted to fuck her; he wanted to fuck Vos's handsome face, and his bulky ass; he wanted to feel his prick slide against Vos's while they shared Ventress. He wanted Ventress to string him up and strip him bare and _laugh_ at him as he came, untouched and ashamed. 

She ground against his mouth and beard. Vos buried himself to the root and stilled for long, agonizing moments. His cock pulsed, lit up Obi-Wan's spine. When he stroked deeper yet, he scraped over that one patch and sent Obi-Wan's tongue lapping madly and his breath stuttering.

"Baby boy," he heard Ventress mutter as she lifted a little ways off him to reach for Vos and kiss him. "How does he feel?"

Vos merely grunted and thrust in. Obi-Wan drew her back to settle on his chin and renewed his efforts. Her clit swelled against his lips and she chittered when he nipped at it. A few more times, a few fingers in each of her holes, and Ventress froze, then ground hard against him.

Their Force signatures tangled and radiated like heat off a bruise. Her orgasms spilled and clutched, cut off his air and seemed to jack his own dick. She came and came, head whipping around, and Vos's moan was high and loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear clearly as he pounded forward, racing to catch up with her.

When Vos pulled out, his come seeped out, warm and sticky, between Obi-Wan's buttocks. His face ran with Ventress's juices. His beard was matted and slick, his nose slightly out of joint.

And the worst thing was, _he was still hard_. He still wanted. He still needed, more and more.

"More," he begged, "give me more."

"Greedy Jedi," she said and patted his cheek. "Always taking and taking."

The heat was still jolting through him, twisting across his chest and clutching at his heart, his lungs. He touched himself. His cock was sticky with precum, almost numb from engorgement. He pulled on his testicles, tried to seek relief, but there was none to be found.

"He's not himself." Vos wiped himself clean, then handed the cloth to Ventress.

"I'd say he's never been more himself," she said. Her hand on his forehead wasn't cool, but it was, somehow, comforting. He wanted to bury his face against her again and never look up. "Isn't that right, Kenobi?"

All he could muster was a faint "please". He struggled to open his shirt and cool off. 

"What the hell is that?" Vos said.

"Oh, my," Ventress said. "Well. That suggests a whole host of new questions."

Across his chest, running down to the side of his hip, ran a large red welt. It terminated just over his heart, around his left nipple, in a strangely folded bundle of petals. A flower. About the size of one of their hands, the flower was at once flush with Obi-Wan's skin, part of it, and very much _not_. It was faintly luminous, edged with cross-hatched shadows.

As they stared at it, the flower shifted and started to open. The petals shifted and swelled like labia.

"Please," Obi-Wan said, or the flower did, or perhaps they spoke together. "Fuck me some more, harder, I need to —"

"Hold him," Ventress told Vos. "Kiss him, or whatever your schoolboy fantasies consisted of."

She switched places with Vos, who pulled Obi-Wan up into his lap to kiss him and cup his cheek and whisper soothingly to him. Ventress tested Obi-Wan's hole with one finger, then three, finally working all four inside. He rose and fell like wind on her fist, his voice crooning, then shattering each time she swiped his prostate. She took him deep and turned her fist, tucking her thumb in, mouthing every now and then on his cock.

The flower fluttered faster the closer to orgasm he got. Its petals spread and reflexed, pushing his nipple and the pollen sacs upward just as he pushed his hips up to take more. Vos kissed him, hanging on for dear life, as Ventress turned her hand, spreading her fingers as far as they could. Her fist reshaped him, as Vos's prick had done, shrinking what was essential about him down to a membrane that clung fast. He wanted nothing more than to explode for her, fly apart, be done and shattered.

"More, damn it," Obi-Wan begged. "More, I need —"

"Vos," she said without looking away. "Find his clones. Failing that, anyone who looks halfway interested and remotely trustworthy."

"But —"

"Do it now," she said.

And so they were alone, Obi-Wan's knees bent and feet curling against the edge of the bed while Ventress fisted him through three, then four, orgasms. He had nothing left to shoot, but the radiant clenches and dizzying releases continued, scraping him raw.

"More —"

"Quiet," she told him and pinched one of his balls. "Be grateful or I stop right now."

Tears ran from his eyes and smeared his cheeks, leaked into his ears. Time had vanished, swallowed up by this darker, far more intense concept of _need_. Cody came, and Trouble, limping in a foot cast. The tavern keeper and his friend, big men with curling beards and kind eyes.

"Fuck him," Ventress told them. "Make him come."

Obi-Wan thrashed when she withdrew her fist. She took something sweet, something intensely private, with her. "Ventress —"

"Take them," she told him, looming over him, filling his vision. "They're going to, whether you want them to or not."

She was lying. She was probably lying.

He didn't _know_. He couldn't tell. He had to trust her; there wasn't any other choice.

The men flipped credits to see who'd go first. They fucked him, deep and hard, one after another. Vos took another turn, while Cody held Obi-Wan. When Obi-Wan begged himself hoarse, Cody turned to Ventress for permission.

"Swallow it all," she instructed Obi-Wan. "No coughing."

Cody helped him over onto his knees and let him bury his face between those strong thighs. His big hand rested on Obi-Wan's nape, as Obi-Wan's ass pushed into the air. Someone was pushing back inside. The come leaking down his thighs slicked their way deep; Obi-Wan trembled, twitching closer, pleasure winking and flickering just out of reach. 

He choked on Cody's cock. His eyes wheeling, he sought Cody's face as he swallowed more. Cody pushed his head back down and gripped him still to thrust two, three more times until Obi-Wan was wheezing, his nose starting to run. He needed to do this; he wouldn't think about whether he _wanted_ to. That was irrelevant. His desire had always been a moot point. He was doing this. He had to.

They flipped him back over when he couldn't breathe. Someone else was just finishing inside him, clutching his waist and pounding deep, artlessly, shaking Obi-Wan right through. His nerves were flayed, snapping, blowing away.

Panting, tongue caught in his teeth, Vos rubbed the head of his cock against the flower. Ventress stroked the petals this way and that, opening them further. Her touch worked into Obi-Wan, beyond pleasure, into exhilaration and helpless flight.

He still wore his trousers on one leg. His shirt was twisted up into his armpits. He was splattered and soaked with so many fluids that even had he the presence of mind to calculate their number, he would have failed.

And afterward, Cody held him, kept holding him. Obi-Wan splayed out on his back, Cody filling his vision. And it was Cody who, when the tavern-keeper's friend was jerking off a second time, noticed that the flower had disgorged its pollen sacs. They lay stuck to Obi-Wan's chest, smeared with sweat and ejaculate, caught in the hairs, broken and leaking spores and their own fresh-sharp fluid.

The red petals and the long, winding stalk gradually faded.

Obi-Wan's mind began, slowly, to clear.

Cody shooed the visitors out of the room. Vos did not want to leave, though Ventress insisted.

"I'll take it from here, sir," Cody told Vos, firmly, and closed the door on them. 

He bathed Obi-Wan in silence. He left Obi-Wan to soak while he remade the bed with fresh linens. When he returned, Cody straddled the edge of the bathing cube, one arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders. Cody turned him this way and that for lather, scratched through Obi-Wan's hair and beard, swabbed down his front and arms. It smelled like honey. Cody did not speak beyond a few grunts and clicks of the tongue to indicate when Obi-Wan should turn, or lift a limb, or close his eyes. Cascades of water from Cody's cupped palms rinsed him clean. Before they left the fresher, he bandaged Obi-Wan's abrasions and bruises. A quick swirl of numbing bacta around Obi-Wan's hole, accompanied by a quirk of Cody's lips, was the only reference to what had just happened. 

The room was dark. The windows were still open and the wind, now, was colder and far less humid. Naked, Obi-Wan shivered as he made his way to the bed.

Cody pressed a hydro-gel sack into Obi-Wan's hand and watched closely until Obi-Wan had swallowed all of it. Then he brushed off his palms and said, "I'll be sleeping by the door. No one gets in or out without me knowing."

The bed was wide. Obi-Wan patted the coverlet next to him but failed to say anything.

"See you in the morning," Cody concluded and extinguished the last light.

"You're a good man, Cody." Obi-Wan spoke into the darkness above.

"Just doing my job, sir."


End file.
